


Hey, Mind If We’re Loud?

by melonsflesh



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Arguments happen and some are more stubborn than others, But mostly Teen, Established Relationship, M/M, Rating's between Teen and Mature to be safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 21:27:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3870343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melonsflesh/pseuds/melonsflesh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An argument leads Saruhiko and Misaki to not exchange a lot of words afterward, and someone decides to take action. <i>Fine.</i> If Saruhiko wasn’t going to talk to him, he was going to make sure he really wasn’t able to.</p><p>Prequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4017058">Hey, Mind If I'm Loud?</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> What are titles.
> 
> This is based off of a post/prompt by [candylit](http://candylit.tumblr.com/). I really like their fics and snippets so I saw a chance to do something for them, or something like that! It’s not like I couldn’t help myself either after picturing a certain scenario in my head, no... no...
> 
> More info, including the prompt itself, in the notes at the end of the second chapter, so I don’t spoil anything over here. Rating is between Teen and Mature to be safe.
> 
> Enjoy! :D

_Monday, circa 6.30 am..._

Saruhiko had never quite let his senses perceive the fresh scent of chocolate and biscuits on a Monday morning until he stopped at the display window of a cake shop, where a young pastry cook appeared to be arranging handmade flans into colorful, little molds for the public’s delight. Feeling the stranger’s heavy gaze on her actions, she raised her eyebrows warily but amicably at him before returning to the kitchen. Saruhiko didn’t pay much attention while his fingers fiddled with the cold metal of the few coins inside one of his pockets.

“Tch.”

When the cook brought the next set of treats, Saruhiko was gone.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

_Two days before..._

It had been a few long, long seconds since Misaki started doing something to the fridge, or with it, or with the things inside it, but Saruhiko was too immersed in the recent reports that had been sent to his PDA a few minutes after he got up and didn’t mind the ruckus enough to ask what he was looking for. The redhead’s patience would probably beat him to it anyway.

“Hey, Saru,” There it was. “You saw the puddings?”

It was somewhat funny to hear Misaki call them by their name; well, Misaki would probably know more about edible things than him, after all. For Saruhiko, it was just as good calling them _that_ _new_ _sweet stuff_.

“I bought a pack yesterday, remember?” Misaki added, almost to himself —and not really minding the lack of an answer— although in a rather loud tone that could be heard from the main room, at least from where Saruhiko was sitting.

“Oh, those,” Saruhiko eventually replied, nonchalantly and without the intent to say more.

“Yeah. You saw them?”

“I ate it,” Saruhiko said.

“Yeah, and where’d you put the rest? Can’t find them. Don’t tell me you put them in the freezer?”

 _The pack_ , Saruhiko meant.

The frustration in Misaki’s voice became more audible and Saruhiko actually hesitated. The silence stretched more than he was used to before he normally gave a consistent reply. He was also used to having a couple of spare comebacks —an infallible escape mechanism, sometimes— but none of the current options in his repertory seemed to be suitable enough for the situation. Better to get to the point, then.

“All of it.”

There was another brief moment of silence before Misaki poked his head out of the kitchen door. Saruhiko regarded him with a neutral expression.

The absolute disbelief in Misaki’s widened eyes was evident. “There were _four_ , Saru.”

“Tch. I know.”

“I bought them last night. And you already finished _all_ of them?!” Misaki’s denial spoke for him.

“ _Yes_. You’re making too much noise, Misaki.”

“When?!”

“Now.”

“I mean the _puddings_!”

“Last night.”

“Saru—they’re not candies?!” Misaki exclaimed as he brought an exasperated hand to his forehead. “ _Urgh_. You can’t just eat four puddings in one go! They’re like... the right portion for an adult!”

Saruhiko stayed silent and stared at him before he turned is head and mumbled out, with utter conviction, “For someone your size, maybe.”

“Y-you piece of—” The redhead inhaled vehemently, struggling to contain his annoyance. “I’m sayin’ you’re supposed to eat _just_ _one_ after each meal, idiot. If you eat them all at any hour, you’re— _A-Ah!_ ” He gasped, mouth agape as if realization had hit him. “You didn’t touch your food last night because you ate them all before that—didn’t you! I knew it was a bad idea to make you try them.”

“Tch.” That wasn’t entirely false, but having found a new treat his tongue was fond of didn’t have a lot to do with his complicated appetite, either. “You’re going to ban me from eating them?” Saruhiko asked, the indifference clear in his calm voice. “It’s my money, anyway.”

“Fuck—it’s not about the money, dumbass. But if you’re so cool with it, fine, you go buy ‘em yourself next time.”

Saruhiko’s brow furrowed lightly, but Misaki’s words didn’t hurt. Whatever insult he had for him had long since become pointless and devoid of any effect, he thought.

If only that was one hundred percent true.

“Misaki,” Saruhiko sighed and sought to keep his voice collected and even. “I don’t need you supervising everything I do. If you’re so hungry, I can give you some money—”

“I have my own damn money! I just care about you too and you fucking know it!”

Misaki’s voice completely overpowered his. The hurt in the redhead’s eyes caught him off guard, and unable to form any more words, Saruhiko averted his own and rose from the chair, PDA clenched in his hand as he retreated to their bedroom.

Misaki took that as his final response and glared at Saruhiko’s back. “Fine!”

Way to start the weekend.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

They both knew it was a temporary thing. Arguments happened. But still.

Saruhiko was allowed to work from home on weekends, hence the reason why he was more susceptible of blocking his surroundings to keep his attention span active for more than three hours—or just _more_ , really. As much as he tried to repel any outside distraction, however, he could still hear Misaki getting ready to go to work and close the door.

For Misaki, it had been one of the most tedious afternoons and evenings after that. Not even at the restaurant he worked at could he escape from the reminders of the little argument he had had with his boyfriend that morning.

They had the convenient shape of the desserts that a customer or two would order.

Karma was so irritating.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

“’m home,” Misaki reluctantly announced, not caring much to raise his eyes from the floor until he locked the door. When he looked up, he noted Saruhiko had moved from the bedroom to the couch, and he could hear the slight rustle of papers as he got closer and craned his neck just a bit to see Saruhiko staring attentively at some colorful infographics and diagrams sprawled over the small wooden table in front of him.

Without more than a grimace, Misaki walked past him and to the kitchen. He opened the fridge, expecting to find some soda, which he did, and clicked his tongue when he saw everything was almost exactly as he had left it that morning. He wondered what Saruhiko could have possibly gotten for lunch, if he had even gotten anything at all, and for after that.

No signs of anything else or out of place, though, so he probably stayed home all day.

Whether Saruhiko had eaten something or not, it wasn’t going to affect Misaki wanting something for dinner, so he washed his hands and tied the apron around his waist. The oil fizzling and heating up in the frying pan replaced the sounds of papers and applications coming from the main room in no time.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

There wasn’t anything unusual about Saruhiko bringing his phone to the table while they ate during the weekends. The first meal they spent together like that, Misaki nagged him about how he couldn’t focus on eating properly while half of his mind was more interested in whatever terrible accident it was displayed on his phone screen. But they soon grew used to it and Misaki barely commented on it afterwards. The faster Saruhiko was done with his work, the more time they would have for themselves later, after all. Right?

What was _not_ like the rest of their meals was the obvious muteness. Having made Saruhiko sit and at least _pretend_ to have dinner with him was something, especially when Misaki thought Saruhiko wouldn’t want to even face him.

Well, he couldn’t say Saruhiko _was_ exactly facing him, though, even if he was sitting right in front of him.

It felt awkward. Misaki occasionally exchanged glances with the long fingers tapping against the touch-screen, hoping the tension didn’t make his stomach turn or do something he would regret later, while Saruhiko did a fantastic job avoiding to look at him and keeping his attention to the content on his phone.

They would usually chit-chat about trivial things that didn’t demand that much mental alertness, but not that night _. Just great_ , Misaki thought. And Sunday hadn’t even come yet.

A few more minutes passed, more faster than Misaki’d expected —thankfully—, and he noticed how the remainders of dinner that were pushed far from the center of the bowl meant they were probably going to get too cold for Saruhiko to take a bite of them, and not long after he would make himself more comfortable while Misaki took the semi-empty dishes off the table, as usual. Saruhiko wasn’t the only one capable of reaching conclusions after staring at something for too long; Misaki could be observant, too, and with that knowledge in mind, he thought that such moment would be the perfect chance to _try_ to emend something, starting with the irksome silence between them.

He set his chopsticks on his bowl as another grimace crossed his face before he opened his mouth to speak up, even though he didn’t have the slightest clue of what to say—

“I’m finished,” Saruhiko spoke first and caught Misaki unguarded. The redhead almost choked on air as his boyfriend rose and took his phone with him, leaving him behind with no words to replace his frozen lips with.

“Ugh... I can’t believe this,” Misaki muttered.

_And Sunday hadn’t even come yet._

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

Sunday morning wasn’t as terrible as Misaki imagined. He could —and did— use the excuse to get up late and enjoy some extra space in the empty bed. _Empty_ , because Saruhiko was presumably back to working on his things somewhere else before he woke up. He muffled a groan into a pillow, caught up in a reminiscence of the way their feet  _didn’t_ tangle with each other the night before.

_Ugh._

Deciding against making breakfast right away, he blew the dust off the portable console in the drawer in his night table and carried his semi-sluggish body out of the bedroom. Just as he thought, the couch was flooded with a different set of reports, but Saruhiko exhibited the same concentration he found him working with the day before.

It wasn’t difficult for Misaki to pretend to enjoy his game for the rest of the morning, because he actually enjoyed it, at least until it got late enough to skip breakfast and prepare lunch. It still wasn’t easy to force his brain to make his body and mind act as natural as possible, and at some unexpected moment, when they sat together and Saruhiko’s eyes met with his, Misaki mentally smacked himself on the back of his head for averting his gaze.

Lunch went by, laundry came and then some cleaning, and making the bed. By then, Saruhiko had moved his tedious paperwork to the table, and it was Misaki’s turn to get a deserved break on the couch. He fell limp onto it and leaned back and closed his eyes, finding the rustling of papers to be somewhat soothing, in a strange way that meant Saru was there, with him, regardless of how far he seemed to be.

He managed to hold himself back from thinking too much about it, and to convince himself that time fixed everything, especially ridiculous issues like these, but still slit his eyes when Saruhiko’s phone buzzed on the wooden surface, and didn’t miss the way his boyfriend’s brow furrowed before he picked up with a click of his tongue, as if offended that someone had dared to call him. Perhaps because Misaki would hear him—

_That was probably it. Yeah._

And it was funny, how whoever was on the other line was able to hold a conversation with him, while Misaki wasn’t allowed to, for whatever stupid reason.

_Annoying—so annoying._

Breathing out a sigh, Misaki pushed the thought to the back of his mind as he leaned back once more, resting an elbow on the back of the couch. He waited until Saruhiko hung up, and risking a bit of his pride, he turned and said, “Hey, I’m turning the TV on.”

He made an attempt to vocalize some of his apathy without making it sound too unnatural and was still considering the probabilities of not getting a reply when he heard Saruhiko’s voice, tone firm and calm, “Go ahead.”

Misaki’s eyes opened wider, not expecting Saruhiko to actually speak up, but soon narrowed in suspicion as he inspected his movements. Never once did his boyfriend take his eyes off of the table, and despite evoking a response from him, Misaki had to bite his lips to not let out any sound that could expose his annoyance.

He turned away and proceeded to turn the TV on anyway.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

“I’m going to bed,” Saruhiko said abruptly as he got up.

Misaki’s focus had been too fixed on a TV show to notice Saruhiko had tidied up everything he had spread out all across the table, leaving only a single folder.

“Uhm,” Misaki hesitated before making a sound akin to an affirmation. He wanted to say more.

Well, it was something, but not enough.

He went to bed too, an hour later. Monday was going to be easier to deal with; he counted on that.

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

Misaki’s mind was lingering between consciousness and the dreamy lethargy pulling at his muscles when he felt something soft and cool on his forehead. It took him a few long seconds that he wished had been less to react, just in time to open his eyes and see the bedroom door closing behind Saruhiko’s blue coat.

He smelled shampoo and soap and brought a hand to his face, to the dampness Saruhiko had left on his temple.

_That jerk’s gonna catch a cold._

 

\- - - - - - - - - -

 

Mondays were hurried, noisy and busier, but they never fail to deplete all the energy Misaki needed to spend to not have to roll around in bed waiting and praying for sleep to take him. He didn’t announce himself when he got back later that night, mainly because there was no one to hear him. Saruhiko’s nightshifts tended to be the main reason.

He was tired, so tired that he simply let his body fall on the couch and didn’t mind the small cushions that hit his back and waist. He pulled them out from beneath him shortly after with a click of his tongue.

When he decided that staring at the ceiling for too long was becoming an unproductive thing to do, he turned the TV on and waited for the distractions to finally weigh his heavy eyes down.

 


	2. Chapter 2

When Misaki woke up, the TV was off. He sat up grudgingly; he wasn’t expecting to, didn’t want to. Part of him would have wished not to wake up the same night and be greeted with the morning light instead. But another part, the one that glanced at the entrance, at a pair of footwear that wasn’t his laying next to his sneakers, felt a flicker of irritation.

_What was wrong with Saru?_

He had come back and had the _considerate_ gesture of turning the TV off, and that was it? That was all?

Misaki growled lowly as he pulled himself off the couch and rubbed at the soreness in his neck. His trip to the kitchen was slightly groggy, until he grabbed an open can of juice from the fridge that fell down his throat like a lash of ice and brought the equilibrium back to his body, though it did little to mitigate the burning in the pit of his stomach.

He leaned against the doorframe, where his eyes could squint at his and Saruhiko’s bedroom and the light seeping from below the door.

_Saruhiko._

He unclenched the can from his fist and let it fall to the sink.

_Saruhiko is there, isn’t he._

With that thought in mind fueling his indignation, Misaki walked toward the room, his silent steps slowing as he approached the door. His fingers hovered over the knob for a moment, hesitating. Planning.

 _Fine._ If Saruhiko wasn’t going to talk to him, he was going to make sure he really wasn’t able to.

A twist and a harsh push was all he needed —or excessively more than needed— to make his way inside. Just as he expected, his taciturn boyfriend was sitting on the bed, with a pen and a folder with reports in his hands, while a few other papers lied scattered across the empty space beside him. He greeted Misaki with what the redhead considered to be a nice, disorientated look for someone who had no idea why his boyfriend had just taken some kind of revenge on an innocent door by banging it open and slamming it against the wall behind it.

If Saruhiko thought Misaki probably pictured him instead of that door, or if that was what Misaki wanted to make it look like, then good.

But, whatever.

Misaki’s determined —and somewhat scary— expression was the only warning Saruhiko was given before he stomped noisily to where he was. Saruhiko raised an eyebrow cautiously, clearly confused by the sudden disturbance Misaki brought up with his presence, but before he was allowed to utter the other’s name, he had the redhead’s hands clenching tightly in his hair and lips pressing almost painfully to his.

Misaki noted how it didn’t take long to have Saruhiko part his lips, but Saruhiko was nowhere near being as forceful as he was, and Misaki kind of liked that—the thought of having a little more power right then and being the one on the lead. He didn’t think twice and leaned further into Saruhiko’s body, closing his eyes as he tilted his head to mash their lips together deeper, finding a better angle for him to run his tongue along the inside of Saruhiko’s mouth.

He heard a soft, vibrant noise from Saruhiko’s throat, and knew he had him right where he wanted him—vulnerable and exposed. He couldn’t see him, but he _felt_ it, he was certain of it. And even though his eyes closed as soon as he lunged at Saruhiko like he was his prey, he didn’t let such instinctive act prevent him from wanting to know how Saruhiko looked like, and only gave it a few more seconds before deciding that yeah, it might be probably safe to open them just a bit to see the priceless look of utter pleasure and begging-for-forgiveness on his boyfriend’s face. He _knew_ there had to be one, and he wasn’t going to miss it.

When he reopened his eyes, Saruhiko’s own were staring back at him.

Misaki froze with a sudden sense of self-consciousness washing over him and forced himself to pull away with a sharp gasp for air. “ _Gwah—_! What the hell—”

Saruhiko remained still, contemplating Misaki’s failed act. His breathing was clearly slightly faster, but that didn’t affect the rhythm of his speech. “Are you finished with your little attempted murder?” His lips curved up. “I was actually starting to enjoy it.”

“I—I,” Misaki couldn’t help but stutter—such pretentiousness effectively leaving him at a loss of words. “Y-you suck at this!”

Saruhiko’s eyelids fluttered down, laughing softly with his lips sealed. “Me? You were the one that came to me and almost made _me_ choke.” He looked up and gave a pause to put the items in his hands aside with the rest of the papers on the bed. “You don’t suffocate someone you care about.”

Misaki’s stern expression didn’t feel as cold as it did a couple of days ago, perhaps because the triumphant little smirk in his lips felt warmer. “Hah. Did that finally get through your thick skull?”

They gazed into each other’s eyes in silence, but Misaki wasn’t expecting any answer this time, really; he felt content knowing Saruhiko did take his words to heart.

Saruhiko’s smile faded away as he locked a hand behind Misaki’s neck. That, and the way his fingers grazed against his skin and then buried into his scalp made the redhead’s heart drum in his chest.

“Saru—” Misaki suppressed a shudder as Saruhiko brought his head closer, and for a moment, Misaki thought he was going to kiss him.

Saruhiko’s forehead found his shoulder instead. “I know,” he murmured.

Misaki had to swallow a laugh, and moved his hands to Saruhiko’s back. “Well, I’m in a good mood today so I forgive you,” he boasted, an unmistakable sense of accomplishment clear in his voice. He wasn’t quite sure, but he could almost feel Saruhiko nod his head in affirmation.

They stayed like that for a while, as if embracing the warmth of a closeness they hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Well?” Saruhiko spoke up first, and after a moment, he lifted his head and intertwined his fingers behind Misaki’s waist. “What was that?”

Misaki raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Your—” Saruhiko drawled, contemplating what word would describe Misaki’s little act better. “ _Kiss_. Were you really trying to kill me or something?”

“Uh,” Misaki rubbed a finger against his cheek, skin heating at the fresh memory. “That was— _wait_ ,” his voice picked up slightly with a hint of urgency when he actually registered Saruhiko’s words. “Are you saying it was _bad_?!”

His pride deflated and wavered a little when Saruhiko replied with a sluggish shrug—how could it have been a _bad_ thing if it was enthusiastic and full of devotion and energy? A bit desperate and unplanned, yeah. He wanted it to be stunning and overwhelming, _yeah_. But still.

“T-that’s... to show you what you get for not talking to me for two days,” he went on, even if Saruhiko saw through such a cheap excuse.

“Is that supposed to dissuade me?” Saruhiko asked with certain skepticism.

“W-well, yeah. You get good kisses if you behave.”

“ _Good_ kisses, huh?”

“Yep,” Misaki nodded and crossed his arms, turning his face to the side and facing away, explicitly showing how offended he was. The over excessive indignation was thick in his tone, almost a little bit fake. “And for your information, that was also a good kiss, so consider yourself lucky.”

“Hmm,” Saruhiko allowed himself an amused hum, “but that’s not how you do it, is it?” The sudden change of attitude, in addition to the recent awkwardness, didn’t give Misaki a quick chance to react and retaliate, but then Saruhiko cupped his cheek with his hand, turning his face back to him. “Why don’t you show me,” he almost whispered as he brought their faces closer, “what a _good_ kiss is.”

Misaki’s immobility allowed Saruhiko to join their lips together languidly, and Misaki let him to do just that. There was something about feeling their breathing mingling between them that proved to be just as passionate and spicy as Misaki’s previous kiss had been, and he certainly didn’t mind the tenderness and slowness with which Saruhiko was making his heart and limbs melt.

Misaki’s hands shot up and clutched at his boyfriend’s shoulders tightly, and when he parted his mouth slightly enough to let his tongue slide out across Saruhiko’s lips, Saruhiko responded by angling his head and _finally_ kissing him deeper, forcing his tongue into Misaki’s mouth while nodding his head back and forth, urging Misaki to do the same and pick up a pace. His grip was gentle but firm on the sides of Misaki’s head as the redhead parted his knees wider to fit his body better onto his lap.

“Mn, Saru—lights,” he moaned into Saruhiko’s mouth.

“ _Later_ ,” Saruhiko cut him off, a slightly hurried, wild tremor in both his voice and body. Misaki never realized when they had started rocking their hips against each other, but even when he did, he couldn’t stop, feeling the anticipation killing him, testing their patience, probably.

He growled lowly against Saruhiko’s mouth, his body growing more desperate with every lick and touch. Saruhiko must have felt his excitement, judging by the way he purred before tugging on Misaki’s lower lip with his teeth, making a rather indecent sound when he let go. He then swiftly ran a hand down the redhead’s waist and slipped it under his shirt, tracing his fingers up the curve of Misaki’s spine before the constant pushing and yearning for more had his back slowly lowering down to the bed, bringing Misaki’s body along with him.

He held Misaki’s body tight and when the redhead’s forehead fell into his shoulder, Saruhiko tilted his head and grazed his lips against his neck—hot, burning skin that he caressed with his breathing.

“Misaki,” he whispered _his_ name, for the first time in two- _fucking_ -long-days, and Misaki’s teeth clenched hard, his breath caught when Saruhiko bit at his neck at the same time his fingers that were suddenly too hot and too icy pressed into the flesh of his hips.

The sweet friction between them had Misaki letting out a shuddered moan, and with senses too slow and unfocused to do anything else, he let Saruhiko take the lead and guide him, let go of his hips to hold him firmly by his arms. He was barely able to register the moment he felt Saruhiko pulling him down further and pushing him by his shoulders to make him lie on his side. The familiar sensation of having his body pressed against the mattress with Saruhiko on top of him, Saruhiko about to hook his hands into the waist of his pants—it encouraged the warm tingling prickling over his skin.

The also familiar, intimate rustle of the sheets along with a firm thud rang in Misaki’s ears, and he felt his cheeks burn up at the mere embarrassing thought of having heard his heart beat _that_ loud, especially when they have only been exchanging a few kisses, and touching, and grinding, and touching.

He took couple of short breaths, anticipating what was to come next but finding the little wait to be too long for his taste. He wondered why Saruhiko wasn’t touching him yet—no... why he didn’t even _sense_ Saruhiko above him.

The sudden incertitude made Misaki’s brain jerk his eyes open. He was not expecting to have the ceiling light contract his pupils, and Saruhiko, gone.

“Huh...?”

_A... dream?_

Had the dizziness of the arousal swelling through his body been stronger, Misaki would have considered the possibility of having been dreaming of it all—every touch, every craving and every feeling.

_Wait a sec—_

_Saru?_

He glanced at his side, at the couple of reports lying on the bed. Where _he and Saruhiko were—_

_Saru!_

—and the confirmation he needed forced his muscles to react and make him sit up in a quick, desperate motion. Before he could utter Saruhiko’s name, he saw _something_ moving from the corner of his eye.

“S-Saru?” He asked in disbelief, and when he turned his head to the side, and down, Saruhiko seemed to be just as dumbfounded as him. Or worse.

He was in an overall way worse condition than Misaki.

And upon realizing that, Misaki’s mouth fell agape in shock. “Saru! What are you doing?”

Of all the possible things that could have run through Saruhiko’s head, one of the worst was probably the fact of having left the lights on.

Saruhiko was practically sprawled out on the floor. The hand closer to the bed clutched at the edge of the mattress awkwardly, while his other arm was held above his head in an improvised angle he must have resorted to so that he didn’t hit his head against the night table while he fell.

What really got Misaki was the expression of utter bafflement and helplessness on his face, how his chin met his chest, the way his glasses were stuck in his messy hair and his bare eyes, wide open, staring at him fixedly with what he thought was a plea for _silence_. Possibly.

Before he could examine the rest of Saruhiko’s body, Misaki couldn’t take in the sight anymore and felt his stomach tense, torn between letting a laughter leap from his throat and suppressing such inconsiderate reaction for the sake of his beloved boyfriend’s ego and pride. The inclination for the former was growing stronger by the second and he quickly pressed a hand to his mouth.

Despite it, Saruhiko could still see the way Misaki’s cheeks reddened and puffed out, and felt both his little bubble and cool façade he was so proud of crash down around him in an instant when the redhead limited himself to stating the obvious.

“Y-you... _f-fell_?” Misaki asked with an uncontainable amusement clear in his stammering despite how much he tried to hide it—not that he was doing a decent job in the first place.

Saruhiko looked away and clicked his tongue. His eyebrows furrowed together in annoyance, visibly irritated by the situation and the embarrassing position he ended up in. He met some resistance while he straightened up and pushed his glasses back into place. Misaki bit his lower lip just as hard as his fingers pressed against his face. He then swallowed hard and retreated his hand, fighting against the trembling in his fingers.

“Saru, are you okay—”

Before he could say anything else Saruhiko turned to look at him, and in that moment, all the empathy Misaki could have felt vanished entirely, and the fresh image of his boyfriend lying on the floor against the night table forced itself into his memory and became stronger than his failed attempt to comfort him. “S-sorry— _pffft_ ,” he let out a snorted breath and erupted into laughter, his body bending as his fingers clawed at his sides. “I-I’m sorry, Saru, just—you should've seen your face!”

“Tch. Shut up.”

Saruhiko stood up with a low, irritated grumble that was easily overwhelmed by Misaki’s loud voice and his incapability to get over the scene. When Misaki’s eyes came to focus, Saruhiko was already on his feet, and he reached out and caught his wrist before he could storm out the room.

“Wait, wait, wait... _hah_ , it’s... it’s fine, just—it’s fine, Saru. I’m sorry, I won’t laugh anymore, I won’t,” Misaki repeated breathily, although the waver in his voice was making difficult to believe it. Saruhiko refused to turn his face from the door as he went on. “Are you hurt?” An amused smile spread across his face as subtle tears pooled in his eyes, but just as truthful was his concern. “It’s okay. I fall off my board all the time, just... not off a bed, but—”

Saruhiko shook his arm with a certain degree of vigor, attempting to pry those fingers off him, but Misaki laughed softly and kept his grip firm as he leapt off the bed to get closer to his offended lover and pull him into a hug. This time, Saruhiko let him hold him tight.

“We’re fine, okay?” Misaki said contentedly and kissed Saruhiko’s shoulder blade through his shirt before snuggling his face into his back.

They stayed what was left of the night like that, with Misaki wanting to kiss Saruhiko a lot but ending up clinging to his back wherever they went because Saruhiko was too embarrassed to look at him in the eye, until he got comfortable enough to let Misaki look at his face again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off of [this](http://candylit.tumblr.com/post/117238822233) post.   
>  Phew. I thought I wasn’t gonna be able to make them not talk to each other for just one day.   
>  /laughs   
>  I’m so weak. Happy endings and fluff complete me.   
>  Thanks for reading. ♥


End file.
